


The Red Dragon

by KimliPan



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dragons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimliPan/pseuds/KimliPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur tries and fails to slay a dragon that's threatening to destroy Camelot. Merlin, a faerie from an alternate realm, offers to help Arthur find a way to kill it, while Morgana, a princess at the faerie court, tries to stop Merlin from meddling with the humans. All three of them end up facing the dragon together. And somehow, Merlin and Arthur become stupidly attracted to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Conflicts

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the artist who made the AMAZING piece of art that inspired this fic (viewable [here](http://puckboum.livejournal.com/22691.html)), written for the [merlinreversebb](http://merlinreversebb.livejournal.com/)! 
> 
> Thank you to my beta reader [luceycantdance](http://luceycantdance.tumblr.com/), as well!
> 
> And of course a huge thank you to the mods of the challenge who handled the whole fest with amazing grace and respect!

Merlin stood, peeking around the large oak tree with his hands on the trunk, watching the human prince kneel at his mother's mossy grave. The woman died before Merlin even set foot in the mortal realm, but even so, the affect she had on the princeling – and seemingly all the men in this world – was undeniable. Arthur, the prince in question, he loved her very much even having never known her. 

Merlin found that fascinating.

If there was one thing the fae were known for, it certainly would not be for perseverance in love. At best, they were clingy, possessive and territorial over their emotional conquests – at worst, downright dismissive, neglectful, uncaring. The worst Merlin could say for Arthur, though, was that the fervency with which he loved his long-dead mother piqued the faerie's interest.

After rising to his feet, Arthur reached forward and laid his palm on the tombstone, grieving now for the loss of his soldiers in a recent skirmish.  His shoulders hung heavy and his breathing slowed, tired and ragged.  As Merlin watched, the blonde prince took a step back from the stone, twisting a cold iron ring round his thumb.

It was then that he started speaking to her, his tone hushed. Merlin could only make out the long sounds and the short stops of quick words in with the low hum of a hushed voice. In a small break of it, Merlin leaned forward to listen better but when Arthur spoke again, his voice was loud enough for all to hear:

"Father will be pleased," he said as he stood once more. "I’ll slay the dragon in the name of the fallen men-" Merlin cringed "-and Father will be pleased." The repetition made him sick.

That was all he cared to hear.  He slipped back behind the tree again, but Arthur’s fervor left him at high alert; at Merlin's motion, he drew his sword and turned to face the trees.

"Who's there?" he called, with that same sort of human authority that usually made the fae laugh. Merlin was not completely immune to his own nature; he smiled to himself, small and smug, and appreciated the human arrogance that came from their ignorance. Sympathy got the better of him, though, and instead of teasing the human, he let the prince have his moment in grief. He refrained from his urge to show Arthur who was really in charge.

"Step out where I can see you."

Feeling generous, Merlin did. Slowly and with great self-control, but he did. With his hands pushing against the tree, he poked around the edge of it, expression as grim as a guilty child. Arthur's eyes widened with recognition, and he came at Merlin with his aimed at his chest. Merlin leapt backward, half floating, and used a wave of magic to push the sword into the ground.

"You don't know what you think you know," he said quickly.

Arthur replied by raising his sword over his head and charging at Merlin, who chose to stay defensive.  He leapt upward this time, up into the air, and he hovered over Arthur by hanging on a branch as though the pull of the earth were only a minor nuisance to him.  This startled the prince enough that he slow his attack.

"I know you helped the dragon!" he shouted up at him.

A low-bellied dry laugh escaped Merlin in a short fit of irritation as he pulled himself up and seated himself on the branch of the tree, just out of Arthur's reach. "For your information, _your highness_ , I _saved_ your pathetic human arse." Neither of them were wrong, really, but Merlin didn't much feel like the truth would help him here, so he contented himself with the half of it while Arthur lowered his sword, brows pushed together.

"What are you?" he asked. "You don't seem human."

"Why don't you asked your father?" was apparently the wrong answer to give; Arthur's sword rose once more, but before Arthur could do or say any more, Merlin decided it best to leave. He hopped from the tree and ran off, fast enough that the human prince could never keep up.

"Merlin!"

Gaius – one of the few humans who knew about the faerie world – shuffled over to Merlin as he pushed his back against the door.

"It's about time," he said, ushering him in with a hand on his shoulder like an old friend.  "Hunith has worried herself sick." Right. His mother. It had been a while since he returned home.

"Sorry," Merlin said, half breathless from the run. He flashed a toothy smile at Gaius as he trumped away from Gaius and down a stairwell, at the bottom of which was a doorway back to his own world. "I may or may not have talked to the prince," he said as he yanked it open. Standing at the top, Gaius gazed down at him with a disapproving frown, eyebrow raised high in inquiry.

"Go," he said, settling the matter by shaking his head. "Your mother's waiting."

So Merlin passed through the door, back to his own world. It was a small place compared to the human world; life outside the King and Queen's palace was limited to the citadel, and all around the citadel was a thicket of briars with few openings, though none cared to go through it. Inside the citadel was warm and bright, full of fae-folk playing music and brightly-colored flags draping over the markets. There was a fountain, with water blue and pristine as a crystal in the moonlight, in the center of the common town where even courtiers and sometimes the Princess Morgana would come and sit and enjoy the beauty.

They ignored him, though. The peace among them was not all it seemed. By and large, the fae were a vain race; their music was self-glorifying, and the beauty of the fountain was designed in the image of the Queen herself, a statue in the center bearing wings carved into marble as thin as a sheet of ice. Merlin was different from them, with a half-human mother and a curiosity for the darkness of what might lie beyond the briars.

It wasn't bad, really, the worst of it was that he had to navigate his own life by himself. As he navigated the cobblestone streets and ducked past a few of the particularly prejudiced fae (the elites, mostly, and the lower-tier courtiers who wished to be higher) on his way back to his mother's, content to stay out of trouble seeing as it was trouble he was coming home to tell his mother about.

And of course when she saw him, she was a rush of warm _oh, dear!_ and _you've been gone so long_ and _it's so good to see you, dear_ and the ever-persistent accusation _you've been interfering with the humans again_. With the affection and the comfort and the home-cooking, it was no wonder he waited until after dinner to talk.

She was sitting on a stool by the fire, window open to let in the faint melody of strings and voices flow in from the distance. Merlin put his hands on her shoulders from behind and began kneading his thumbs into the muscles on her back. She let her head fall forward and said quietly, "You're worried about something."

Merlin smiled faintly, kissing his mother on the back of the head. She noticed things about people the other fae never did, and Merlin suspected it was the human half of her that told her these things. She claimed it was just being a mother.

"Maybe," he admitted, though he said nothing more as the music stopped and the fae folk down the way cheered. It was a comfortable silence between them, with the noise from outside and his hands working the tension from her back. Still, at the prospect of the discussion before him, his stomach twisted much as it had when the prince was mourning his knights.

"There's a dragon," he started as the cheering mellowed and the music picked up again. "On the other side. In the human world."

Hunith reached up over her shoulder and placed a hand on Merlin's.  "How do you know?" he asked, her tone conversational, her mood idle.

The hand under hers still and he leaned forward, resting his chin on her head. "I saw it," he said. "The prince fought it."

"Truly, Merlin?" she asked, her stillness gone as she turned to look at him. "This is no light matter." He frowned and looked away, the twisting in his stomach making his throat catch. "We should bring this to the Queen," she went on to say as she rose from the stool, but Merlin kept his hands firm on her shoulders and held her in place.

"Don't _worry_ ," he said, forcing the same cheeky grin he always gave her when he was in too deep and didn't want her to know. He hoped to get rid of the dragon before any other faerie could get involved. "The Queen wouldn't listen to us anyway. I'll take care of it."

From her place on the stool, Hunith took one of Merlin's hands and held it in both of her own. "You have to try, at least," she said placidly.

Ultimately, he squeezed her hand, but withdrew both from the conversation and from place in the music by the fire; he withdrew from her comfort, and the warmth he used but didn't deserve, not right now.

"Gaius is already on it," he said, affording her a reassuring smile as he watched him with the same kind of knowing she used when he lied to her about doing his chores as a child. "I'll go back now, see if he's found anything."

"Go, then," she said. "Help the prince. And thank you for coming home."

 

Merlin returned to Gaius feeling shame-faced and glum. "What've you got?" he asked, taking a seat across from Gaius, who was steaming a phial of some opaque liquid over some kind of glass spiral. "Progress on the dragon front?"

"I'm afraid not," Gaius said, looking over the top of his spectacles at Merlin. "Not really, at least." There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a small up-kick of a muscle that told him Gaius was just being diplomatic.

"What is it?" he asked, coming over to remove the phial from Gaius's hand. Gaius frowned and laid his hands flat on the table, and now Gaius wasn't being diplomatic at all. He was being down-right smug. "Tell me!" Merlin said, a nervous but excited grin pulling at his own lips.

"You're not going to like it," said Gaius as he walked around the table to push open a book. Merlin followed, ready to watch and listen. "It's been told that goblins have magic effective against dragons."

"Goblins?"

"Yes, Merlin."

He had never met a goblin before, and with good reason. Goblins hated the fae; they cared little for regal airs promenades. Eons and eons ago, legend had it that king of the Land of the Fae had once been a goblin, but when a faerie overthrew the Goblin King, he banished them to the land of the humans.

"Suffice to say you'll need a human ambassador," Gaius said, a response to the dumbfounded look on Merlin's face.  "And gold," he added as an afterthought as he returned to his potions at hand.

"The prince?" was Merlin's first guess: Human AND gold, both in one. But with the sharp look Gaius was giving him, Merlin suspected he ought to guess again.

When Arthur returned to the castle, his servant was waiting for him in his chambers with a change of clothes.

"The King requests your presence at dinner," he said as he set to removing Arthur's coat. Under the circumstances, it was no surprise; Arthur had led many great men to their deaths.

"Thank you, George," Arthur said with a heavy sigh as he pulled on the new set of clothes himself. "That will be all for now."

He reveled in the moment alone, twisting a ring from his mother round his thumb as he sat at his desk, stomach turning in on itself as his mind went over the past days. That man at the gravesite was the first to come to him, the memories were in a flash of dark hair and blue eyes.

Arthur remembered that face for sure from the battle against the dragon, he was not mistaken in that. When things were bleak, the man had stepped onto the battlefield and Arthur could remember little else than the man running toward him, arm outstretched.

After waking up on the sideline however many hours later with the surviving knights struggling into consciousness beside him, the only conclusion he could come to was that the man had aided the dragon. Though now, he wasn't so sure.

Something in him urged him to trust those blue eyes, despite the way he seemed to just fly into the tree. It was like a pulling in his chest, urging him on to trust him, and Arthur liked to think his instincts were rarely wrong.

"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" he asks when he finally makes down to the dining hall. There was no seating for him, not that Arthur had expected it. Uther just leveled his gaze at him, a torn-off piece of chicken in one hand, wine in the other.

"Yes, Arthur." He slapped his hands together to wipe them off and sat back. "Why did you do it?"

Arthur let out a heavy breath and pursed his lips, stepping further into the room. "I thought it would please you, father-"

Uther interrupted, authoritative coldness wiping out Arthur's argument in its entirety. "Did you?" he asked. "You thought it would please me to find out a whole band of my knights marched straight into death-"

"The farmers were scared!" Arthur said quickly. "I couldn't just leave them to-"

"That's exactly what you should have done!"

Silence. Heated and tense.

Arthur shifts his weight into his hip and leans against the back of a chair. _Right_. _Protect the citadel. That's what you wanted,_ he thought bitterly, knowing that if they had won the battle, his father would have been proud whether or not it was against orders.

"I'm disappointed in you," Uther said, and that's all Arthur cared to hear. "You may go."

When he lies back in bed, he can't sleep. He thinks on the cries of his men. He thinks on the farms that burned down. He thinks of the other man, slender and slick and fast, eyes as blue and clear as a crystal under the moon.

Arthur hadn't even believed in magic before all this started. And now there were dragons, and men who could fly into trees. Asking his father about all of it was out of the question; he just hoped he would run into that man again.

Morgana's days always started and ended the same, with a lady's maid and a courtier, both vying for and working at her favor in a blur of _my Lady_ 's and _your Highness_ es. She felt restless at court. It wasn't that Morgana didn't like the attention, but it got so _tiring_ day-in and day-out. The political nonsense was left to her mother, while the King socialized and fraternized and got on with the courtiers. It was boring on either side, and it was boring on her own; the only escape was often her visits to the shopkeepers in the lower town, and the music-players at the center.

Today was spent at her mother's side, parading around in dresses and jewels and putting on face. As they walked the gardens, many of the fae attempted to flirt with Morgana while she managed to laugh them each off with a condescending smile. At one point a young male fae managed to distract Morgana from her mother completely, while a courtier tried to flatter the queen all on her own. As Morgana navigated her own conversation with the gentlefae's banter, she noticed a woman from the lower towns attempting to join the mess of courtiers in the garden.

They bawked at her and turned her away, but the woman seemed steadfastedly determined to reach the queen. Dismissing herself by patting her flirtation's chest, she approached who she recognized to be Hunith. Morgana had something of a soft spot for her, being half-human and all; in Hunith, it was treated with reproach. In the princess, however, it was treated as an exotic novelty.

"Good afternoon," said Morgana in her usual cool greeting as she approached the woman; the courtiers who had scorned her hurried away, probably in the hopes that the lady Morgana hadn't noticed.

"Princess Morgana!" said Hunith, rushing to curtsey; though she was sure to meet the formalities, there was nothing of the sycophantic retchedness.

"Is there something that brings you here, Hunith?" asked Morgana, careful not to betray her favor for the older half-fae.

"Your highness, I came to see if I could speak with Her Majesty, but she appears to be busy," Hunith explained, face lowered in the way the lower class was meant to behave with royalty. "I've heard a rumor, you see, that a dragon has made it to the mortal realm."

Morgana pursed her lips and folded her hands at her stomach, regarding the woman with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort. The human part of her longed to know more, to help those caught up in the mess, but the fae part of her told her something darker.

"And what should we care?" she asked, the very nature of the question putting a wry curl to the corner of her lip. "Are the humans not going to die anyway?"

Hunith, in a moment of boldness, raised her eyes to meet Morgana's with an unmistakable sadness and pity. It turned Morgana's stomach.

"It's the Pendragons, Princess," said Hunith in a gentle, caring tone. "Prince Arthur has already challenged it once. He will no doubt do again."

Morgana felt like she could say little to that. It wasn't everyone who knew, and so Morgana had to assume Hunith was ignorant to it, but in fact Arthur Pendragon was her half-brother; her mother the Queen had borne Morgana as the half-child of the current human king Uther.

She cared little for her father. The prince, though – the thought of him dying at a dragon's hand, it stirred something in her. Pity, maybe. Curiosity once more. Or perhaps she was simply being possessive. The emotion was confusing, but it was present nonetheless, and it gave her the drive to dismiss herself entirely and find her way to the mortal world.


	2. Three Weapons

As vast and expansive as Camelot seemed in the past, it was oddly small when Merlin was on the run. The human world was easy enough to navigate without much notice; the land was big, and there were enough people to blend in without being too obvious. It would be all he cared to do to get away from his pursuer, save that she was no human. It was the Princess Morgana on his tail, and she was angry with his interference.

Wearing a hooded cloak wasn't enough. And neither was ducking behind a cabbages stall. Or shuffling down an empty passage, or even the servant's entrance to the castle. Every time Merlin thought he'd lost her, she showed up again, walking toward him with cold determination.

He cursed his mother for telling her about the dragon, and Gaius for telling her about Merlin. But he had an idea.

The closer he got to Arthur, the more likely Morgana was to turn back. So as he scurried through the shadows and down the corridors, he made his way to the prince's quarters. She wasn't so easy to spook as he thought, though.

He muttered a charm under his breath to stun the guards as he pushed past them, but at this point Morgana's slow and measured steps had degraded into a run and she was close behind on Merlin's heels.

"Don't you dare!" she called out behind him as he threw himself against the prince's bedchamber door. "You leave him alone!"

But Merlin never was one to listen. Looking back with a cheeky grin, he pushed the door open and stumbled in, cause Arthur to jump to his fee and move at him toward the door. Sandwiched between the both of them coming at him, he slipped back out the door and slid down the wall, giving them the chance to collide with each other head-on.

It wasn't even a full moment. They both stopped dead and looked at each other a moment before Morgana resigned and used her magic to vanish.

Merlin was tucked away down the wall by the door as Arthur came flying out after her. Merlin chose not to move, to let the prince spot him first.

It didn't take long; he turned as if on instinct, reaching for his sword which wasn't at his hip.

"How did you get in?" he asked, face as serious as sin, and Merlin fought not to laugh at him for it.

Merlin rolled his eyes as though the answer were obvious.

"And who was she?" Arthur went on, and that, Merlin thought, was a fair question, but Merlin chose the more pressing matter at hand:

"Do you wish to slay the dragon?"

And Arthur's guard was down somehow at that, his curiosity piqued. He knew Gaius would be angry, but it felt right – better yet, it felt only fair to let the prince be the one to take on the challenge. And with him being the best swordsman in the land, or so he'd heard, Arthur was also the best candidate.

It didn't hurt that Merlin found a little something charming in him. Maybe it was his golden everything – hair, skin, glow – or maybe it was his courage against the dragon in the first place. Whatever it was, it was noble, and Merlin couldn't deny that he liked it.

"You know something," Arthur said. Merlin was glad it wasn't a question.

"In the mountains, just a day's journey off, there's a band of goblins."

"I shouldn't trust you."

Merlin flashed a grin, pleased with himself. 

"Probably not," he admitted. "But do you have a choice?"

Arthur shifted as he regarded Merlin with skepticism. " _Goblins_. Right. So, we go find these – these _goblins_. What, then?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

It was a fair time to cut the ambiguity and give some actual details, Merlin decided, so he stood upright, offering him enough information to try and seem trustworthy. "We talk to them. Find out what they know." A shrug. "They won't talk to faeries, so I need a human to do that part."

"Faeries," Arthur dragged out, as though the word were a joke in and of itself. Right. Merlin forgot. Though Gaius and the king were aware of their world, the prince was still left in the dark. He'd forgotten.

Rolling his eyes and pressed into Arthur's room to take a seat. This was going to take some time to explain.

Arthur's head was reeling from all the new information. All of it, though, ultimately meant one thing: if he took this Merlin up on his offer to take Arthur to meet the goblins, and if the goblins really could find a way for him to slay the dragon – his father would be pleased, and the kingdom would be safe.

That was why he had George pack his bags.

As the sun rose, Arthur, who told Merlin to be ready, went to meet his servant by the stables; as he got there, the two men were having a heated debate.

"You can't bring him, Arthur," Merlin said with a flat frown. "This is all so sensitive already – he'll just much it up even more."

"George is my faithful servant," Arthur said, and he could practically feel the satisfaction radiating off him at the compliment. "He doesn't just _muck things up_." Dreadfully boring, yes, but rather skilled.

"You won't be needing him," Merlin assured him.

Arthur thought to himself, _I could use the break,_ unsure if he just wanted to make Merlin shut up or if he really could be content without the unending almost sycophantic servitude of his manservant.

"Alright, then, George." This Merlin was dangerous, his mind told him. It was so easy to be won over, to trust him – he decided he ought to keep himself on guard. "See to it my horse is ready, and you're dismissed."

It was Merlin's turn, then, to be satisfied.

 

They set off on their horses shortly after.

Arthur rode in the lead, though he had little idea where he was going, while Merlin's horse sidled along behind him. The faerie (a word Arthur was trying to force himself to get used to) didn't seem so mysterious or odd once he got to talking. In fact, he seemed a bit like a moron. But yet, Arthur reminded himself not to surrender to him so readily.

For his father to have never told him about the fae must have meant they were not to be trusted.

After a particularly long silence, Arthur glanced back at Merlin and finally asked him, "The woman from last night. Is she a faerie too?"

"Yeah," Merlin answered. Arthur nodded, expecting it. "Not just a faerie. She's the princess." Merlin's horses trotted up so they were riding alongside each other now.

Of course. It made sense, a whole people of its own, they must have someone ruling them.

"And the faeries. Your people." Arthur paused, frowning as he looked over at Merlin who was watching him petulantly. "You use magic?"

Merlin rolled his eyes much as he had last night, as though Arthur were a dumb child an answering him was a chore.

"I _am_ the prince, you know," he said in quick defensive of himself. "You should show me some respect."

"Yeah, should I?" Merlin asked, and Arthur thought he could see a laughing coming up through him. "Of course, my mistake."

Arthur felt he could strangle him. Still, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as they rode on in a new, more comfortable silence.

 

"So when we go in," Merlin said, dusting Arthur off as he stood before the Goblin cave, "You'll do the talking and I'll step back."

"Yeah? You'll stay quiet?" Arthur asked, letting Merlin adjust his mail and armor. "Will you keep those smug faces to yourself?"

Merlin gave a little smirk and what took Arthur a moment to realize was a blush as he said, "I don't know what you're talking about." The moment felt oddly tender; it made Arthur's chest swell, but before he knew it, it was time to press on.

As they entered the cave, Merlin quite a few paces behind Arthur (or as Arthur told him "cowering like a dog"), the goblins turned out to be waiting for them.

Within moments, the two of them were encircled by eight tiny, ghoulish looking creatures.

"It's the prince," said one of them to their leader.

"And a faerie," said the other in a voice that told Arthur Merlin wasn't lying when he mentioned an animosity between them. He reached to his hip and put a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"We've come seeking help," he said firmly, doing his best to keep his face neutral to hide his disgust.

"And you won't have it," said the leader, smirking in the same way Merlin had moments before though Arthur found it significantly less endearing.

The neutrality melted into a frown, but Arthur pressed on, trusting the information Merlin gave him. "A red dragon has been attacking the land. We need to know how to stop it." He knelt before the short, twisted, ugly creature and pulled his coffer from his hip. The goblin took it.

"We are more than willing to pay," he said.

The goblin leader dumped the coins into his hand and frowned, dropping them on the ground. "We want that," he said, his frown twisting as much as his shape into a broken smile, toothy and rotten.

Arthur reached up to touch his head where the goblin was pointing. "My crown?"

Merlin scoffed behind him. Arthur rolled his eyes and fought the urge to stand up and smack him upside the head.

"Yes, Arthur Pendragon," said the leader while the other goblins moved in closer. Arthur could only assume Merlin's smugness was getting to them.

"Just give them the stupid thing," Merlin hissed behind him.

"How will you help us?" Arthur asked. The crown may be only a symbol, but it was as important to his people and his kingdom as he himself was. "If I give this to you, you will help us kill the dragon."

As if they shared a mind, the eight of them together pulled away and huddled into a churning hiss of discussion.

Arthur took the moment to rise and smack Merlin upside the head.

"What was that for?" he asked, and Arthur was tempted to answer _because you're cute when you're upset_ but the goblins returned and he lost his chance.

"If you give us the crown, Arthur Pendragon," the leader said with that sick and twisting grin, "we will help you. If not, then we will take it." Again, he pointed his stubby finger at Arthur, this time as his hand. "Your ring," he said. "It is made of cold iron."

Arthur touched his glove wondering how they knew that through the dark leather. He had heard the term 'cold iron' but only in myths – chains, and fetters, and cuffs, or hung over cribs to protect babies from being spirited away. It was a ward against magic. As such, Arthur hadn't even believed in it.

"How do you know?" he asked, having never known that himself.

The goblins all hissed in unison, the leader stepping forward, grin now sinister. "Do you think us stupid, human?"

"No, no!" Arthur said, stepping back.

"The dragon is a threat to you, as well!" Merlin interjected. Arthur looked back at him, surprised. "He said he'll give you the crown. Can you help us?"

The interjection didn't seem to be so smart at first, but feeling Merlin on his side, knowing he could trust him – it gave Arthur the strength he needed to be more assertive. With steeled resolve, Arthur negotiated through their petulance, but he came out of it even more uneasy than he'd gone in.

His ring, the last vestige of his mother, was to be fused with the hilt of his sword. The goblins were at work with it, as they were apparently skilled smiths. The promise was that the fusion would enhance magic that flowed through it. The catch was that Merlin had to learn the spell.

So Arthur stood back, arms crossed over his chest while the goblins destroyed his him and mounted it at the base while Merlin, standing at the hilt with arms outstretched, shouted a spell while the lectured and verbally assaulted him ( _you must be an idiot!; no, no, all wrong!; stupid, stupid faerie!_ ), though he managed to persevere.

If going through all this didn't earn him his father's satisfaction, he didn't know what would.

Morgana tried not to care. If Merlin got the human prince killed, that was their business, she thought. Certainly the weight of the circumstances would end up getting Merlin killed too (that gave her minor solace), and anyway, she had never even acted with the prince before, and so there was no reason for her to care.

Still, she told her mother who pressed her lips in a tight, thin-lipped smile and told Morgana, "Do not interfere." The Queen's relations with the current ruler of Camelot was tolerant at best, and while Morgana had no interest in trying to change that (she resented Uther for making her a halfbreed), there was a certain affection she had for Arthur, an interest in his life often tried but never could quite shake. The humans called it sisterly love. Morgana didn't care to put a name on it.

She found herself now wandering into Gaius's wokshop as she passed on into the mortal realm.

"My lady," he said in a rush with a bow, the same kind of unironic respect she received from Hunith.

"Relax, Gaius," she said, glancing around the room with a veil of interest. "I'm having trouble sleeping, and I thought you might be able to help." She hoped to sound convincing, though she suspected Gaius might know she made it up. The man was unnaturally sharp for a human.

"Of course," he said, moving for his cupboards. "What is the nature of the malady, if I may ask?"

"Well, it's unusual," Morgana said, seating herself at one of his tables. "I am concerned for the relations between our worlds." She gave Gaius a warm smile as he turned around to watch her, the same diplomatic neutral expression he always wore when he was being careful. "I worry for what Merlin may be doing with the prince, and until my mind rests, I fear I will not rest."

"Ah," said Gaius, his tone purposeful and even. "In that case, I believe this simple tincture should do the trick." He placed a small glass bottle on the table before her. "As well as the knowledge that Merlin and the prince are well on their way to defeat the dragon, my lady, so there's no need to fret about that. Arthur is safe."

Morgana turned her head away at that. "It is not the safety of the prince I care about, Gaius, but the relationship between our kingdoms."

"Of course, my lady. Rest assured, should Merlin and Arthur succeed – and I have no doubt they will – the dragon will be defeated soon."

Morgana stood and took the tincture from the table with a simple, "Thank you, Gaius," before returning to her own castle.

He knew that voice. It was low, deep-rooted, it resounded in his head as much as his chest. The dragon was calling to him, much as he had some weeks ago. Carefully, Merlin got up from his spot keeping watch where he and Arthur made camp (or rather, he made camp while Arthur watched; some superior race the fae turned out to be).

The dragon continued calling his name, the low rumble getting bigger and broader as he got closer until finally, he found him, gigantic and smug in the middle of a clearing.

"What do you want?" Merlin called out, irritated and sour.

"I'm insulted," he said simply. He threw his head back and laughed. "Do you really think that little scrap of metal can kill me?"

Merlin shifted as he stood before the dragon, wondering now, _will it? Was Gaius wrong? Were the goblins lying?_ But something in Arthur's fearless told him they could do this, even if logic claimed otherwise.

"I do," he answered, hands straight down at his side to show he was unafraid, he didn't need to defend himself.

The dragon barked out, still howling with laughter in response. Merlin worried whether or not Arthur could hear it, if he would wake up from it and come and find them. The idea filled him with dread.

"Does he know, then?" the dragon asked. "Of course he doesn't. I suspect he'd have killed you." He leaned in close so his head nearly rested on the ground before Merlin. "Tell him you're the one who freed the dragon that killed his mother."

Merlin said, "You think you can make me afraid, but you can't."

But it wasn't enough for the dragon to take him seriously. Smiling, he pulled back and readied himself to fly away. "Not even your royals' magic could stop me, Merlin. You have until tomorrow at sundown to find away." He spread his wings and lifted himself into the air. "Or I'll burn the citadel to the ground."

Merlin cursed as the dragon flew off, his stomach turning in on itself as he reached up to pull at his own hair. _What am I gonna do?_ he wondered as he began trudging back to their makeshift camp. _What am I gonna do?_


	3. Three Heroes

If Arthur thought the last two days were hard to digest, then today was even harder. When he rose, Merlin had already packed up their camp and gathered the horses.

"You're putting us behind schedule," he said, tossing a pathetic piece of bread and a waterskin at him before he'd barely finished opening his eyes. "A lazy, royal ass."

Apparently, he was determined to bring Arthur back to the citadel to bring him to the Faerie realm.

Arthur still didn't know how he felt about it. As they rode, a tense pulling filled his chest and he found himself reluctant to go there, both intimidated and made vulnerable at the thought of magic all around him.

"We need the Queen's help," Merlin told him. He wouldn't tell him how he suddenly divined that information, or how he suddenly knew the dragon would attack the citadel at sundown, but Arthur believed it and he trusted Merlin's urgency even as much as it made his insides twist.

So, on they went, into the castle and down through the physicians chambers, even at his protest that Merlin ought not bring Arthur there (with an apologetic look in Arthur's direction; he knew all this time!).

They found their way to the castle easily. The layout was remarkably similar to Caemlot's, albeit a little closer-knit and with more (much more brightly-dressed) citizens. (It was a struggle reconcile the term 'people' within his own mind, so he thought in terms of ruling and kingship to comfort himself).

The Queen turned them away before they even reached the entrance, however. A male faerie, sinister and smug (as everyone else in regard to this whole damn quest seemed to be), was more than glad to inform Merlin that his countenance did not please the queen, and as such, she did not wish to receive him.

With nowhere else to turn, Merlin panicked and brought them both to his mother's who set them both up at her table with some tea, and Arthur thought for the first time since the first dragon's sighting, that the moment was lovely – though it wasn't without the dread of tonight hanging over him, he knew he had to enjoy the moment while they had it.

It was in that moment sitting for tea when their luck managed to change. There was a knock on the door, and Hunith answered with an urgent _my Lady_ , and Arthur instinctively rose to his feet as the woman he recognized from the other night in the corridor walked in.

She regarded Arthur for a moment, lips tight, eyes roving him in some kind of appraisal (if he hadn't felt powerless and vulnerable before, that gaze would have done him in) before she turned her attention to Merlin.

"What is going on in your mind that you thought you could bring a mortal here?" she demanded as Hunith hurried to place another tea cup; she gave Morgana one similar to Arthur's, while she and Merlin both drank from plainer cups.

"That's what I said," Arthur urged, gesturing toward Merlin with an open palm. The words left before he cared to stop himself. "I said, leave me out of it, it's a bad idea. What sort of idiot does he have to be?"

Morgana gave Arthur a smile, tiny, before going on, "Take him and go, we don't want you bringing your trouble here."

"Your Highness," Merlin said, his motions of formality more a gesture of tradition than respect. His bow was plain and stiff, as though he only did it because he had to. "We need your magic to stop the dragon."

Morgana's look changed from control to something akin to fear, maybe even insecurity; he couldn't quite place it, but he felt like he had worn that same look in the face of his own father.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," she said, her voice higher, defensive even.

Merlin actually rolled his eyes at her (he did _not_ know how to treat royalty, that much was certain).

"I agree," Arthur put in. "He may be the stupidest person I've ever had help from." Finally, he reseated himself back at Hunith's table.

"Those words are a relief to hear," Morgana admitted, and Arthur thought maybe now she was regarding him with a smile. He felt a sort of kinship with her already. "I was afraid you might be more… influenced by him."

That brought a hint of a blush to Arthur's cheeks. Merlin had quite a pull on him as a matter of fact, but neither of them needed to know that ever since this morning, he had been so irritable because in fact he just wanted to push Merlin up against a tree and kiss the hell out of him.

"If you would help us," Arthur said, knowing already his words would have more pull than Merlin's with this woman. "He insists your royal magic paired with my sword and a spell he learned from the goblins – together, that should do the dragon in."

Morgana took a seat in front of the tea Hunith poured for her. Sipping it, she eyed Arthur, but this time he didn't feel small in her gaze; he felt comforted. "I will consider it," she said.

Merlin took a seat with him, his expression glib and a bit sour, and Arthur wondered if they hadn't been a touch too mean.

 

  
_The Unlikely Team against the Red Dragon_

 

Being in Arthur's presence was becoming a sick form of torture to Merlin, who had long since realized the reason he found Arthur so interesting and noble was because he had grown helplessly and pathetically attracted to him – all gold and nobility, with nothing dark about him. He was eager for the whole ordeal to be over so he could go back to the shadows and protect Arthur from the sidelines, but with each new development, their quest to slay this dragon only got more and more draining.

When they returned to Gaius's chambers, the physician urged them in quickly. "The dragon's already here," he said as they rushed in.

"He said sundown!" Merlin breathed, reached up to bite his thumb. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," said Gaius. "I'm only here to gather supplies. The wounded are growing by the minute."

Before Merlin could ask any more questions, he felt a comforting pat on his back as Arthur rushed past. "Let's go," he said. "We have to lure the dragon out, right?"

"I can do that," said Morgana as she, too, rushed passed him, and Merlin was left to run and catch up.

The King was in the courtyard, ordering his men around, many of whom had already fallen. Some knelt, swords still in hand, while others ran out, hoping to meet the dragon. From above were the men with crossbows, who might as well have been firing at a boulder for the dragon was completely unmoved.

For a moment Merlin worried Arthur would seek his father's counsel, _Can we do this, sire?_ But he didn't even consider it, it seemed. He only cried out, "Now, Morgana!" as his sister ran out and forced her palm into the air, making a temporary blue forcefield that pushed the dragon back.

"It won't last," she said. "It'll confuse him, but only for a moment. Find horses, ride out west!"

It wasn't hard to do; many of the fallen knights had been on horseback, so the horses, though somewhat spooked, were already saddled and ready, and the three of them rode out even as Uther called out to them, demanding they come back.

 

Morgana wasn't sure she could do it. After all, she was only half-fae, and as such, she feared her royal magic would only be half as strong. But she had no choice, she couldn't live with herself if she let the attack go on. So she followed Arthur and Merlin, and she even managed to divert the dragon's attention a short while for them to go out and meet.

But now she stood with the other two men, the three of them alone against the dragon, and she wasn't sure she could do it – she'd never done anything like this before. It was all a haze, really, like someone else had taken over her body, giving her some kind of drive that certainly wasn't confidence. It was as though reality became an echo of itself, and the sounds of Merlin and Arthur shouting out as they faced the dragon were muffled in her mind.

She heard it, then, Merlin chanting out that goblin spell while Arthur held out his sword, ready to take the magic. Her body froze, her mind went blank, and she watched the scene as if it played out in slow motion: The dragon was going to devour them both while they were distracted. He was diving, mouth open, head first, aimed straight for them.

That drive took over again. She stepped forward, arm outstretched, and uttered a quick spell under her breath; it didn't stop him, but it seized his muscles, froze him as solid as she felt while he fell.

"Arthur!" she shouted, but Merlin took it from there. He raised his hands and brought them down, guiding the dragon straight for Arthur's out-stretched sword.

As it hit the ground, Arthur drove his glowing sword up into the dragon's jaw, piercing it and the throat open while it landed squarely on top of him.

His weight fell as dead flat against the earth as the dragon's.

Everything was still.

Morgana drew a hand to her mouth. Merlin stared at the dragon, as if afraid he might move, then looked down at Arthur who lied motionless.

The dragon let out one last hot breath, making both Merlin and Morgana jump. They looked at each other, Morgana sure that Merlin felt as uncertain as she did.

"Is he dead?" she asked, anxious both for the dragon, and for Arthur.

Merlin knelt beside the human, a hand on the dragon's head to support himself. Morgana watched as he put a hand on his shoulder and jostled it, and much to their relief, Arthur opened his eyes.

"Did it work?" he asked, voice hoarse, and both Merlin and Morgana laughed, giddy with relief.

"You did it," Merlin said, grinning down at him. "You dealt a mortal blow."

"It's dead?" Arthur asked, straining beneath the dragon's large head.

"Yeah."

Arthur barked out a laugh of relief and let his head fall back against the earth. "We did it!" he said, before reaching up and grabbing Merlin's collar to pull him down and kiss him on the mouth.

Morgana smiled as she looked away, feeling, for the first time, like she had really done something worthwhile.

"You should have come, you know," Arthur said as stepped into his chambers. Merlin, who had been lounging in the prince's bed, painting stars on his ceiling with magic, sat up to watch Arthur take his shirt off. He smirked to himself. "I told everyone what you and Morgana did for Camelot. They wanted to meet you."

"It's for the best," Merlin said, laying back down as though the human's presence made little mind to him, prince or no.

"You really have to regard for propriety, do you, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur asked, throwing his dirty tunic in Merlin's face. Merlin threw the tunic in turn onto the ground.

"I freed the dragon," Merlin blurted out, unaware it had even been on his mind. Arthur turned his head to regard the statement, frown deepset. Merlin wondered if he ought to tell Arthur that Morgana was his sister, as well, but maybe that could wait.

"I know," Arthur said, moving over to sit beside Merlin on the bed. Merlin scooted back to rest his shoulders on the headboard. "Gaius told me. That the dragon killed my mother, as well."

Merlin felt his face burning in shame. He drew his hands into his lap to fidget with them, but Arthur took Merlin by surprise: He put a comforting hand on Merlin's hands and leaned forward, giving Merlin a kiss on the mouth. Merlin let a heavy breath out through his nose as he forced his body to relax.

Arthur didn't pull away like Merlin expected, though. He stayed where he was, with his lips pressed against Merlin's, and he brought a hand up to cup the side of his face. It was the first time anyone ever really paid him much attention, let alone such an intimate and warming touch, and he felt himself melting beneath the human prince.

"Was your father pleased?" Merlin asked, forcing them out of the kiss by rolling his head down so that their foreheads touched, but Arthur was apparently insatiable. He moved his mouth to Merlin's jaw, kissing down to his neck where his grazed with his teeth.

"Yes," Arthur said as Merlin's head lilted to the side, giving Arthur more room. He brought his hands to Arthur's back as Arthur climbed onto the bed, straddling Merlin's legs.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, pressing his fingers into the firm, warm flesh of the expanse of Arthur's back.

"No," Arthur answered before biting Merlin's neck right where he was; Merlin moaned, and decided it best to stop talking about parents.

Especially while his hands were moving down now, finding their wait to the lacing at the front of Arthur's trousers.

Arthur sucked at the flesh he'd bitten into, and Merlin shivered as the sensation shut right down to his groin, making him both eager and desperate for more attention. He rolled his head back as Arthur sat upright, undoing Merlin pants while the stars Merlin had painted sparkled more brightly and clearly than he had put them there.

The contact of Arthur's flesh on own was frantic, pulsing, needy, and before either of them knew it, they were both exposed, throbbing and hot and ready.

Merlin wrapped a hand around Arthur's arousal, his other hand snaking around the back of Arthur's neck, pulling the prince closer to demand more kisses, open-mouthed and hungry. Merlin opened up to let him in entirely, and Arthur took advantage by letting Merlin suck on his tongue.

They both moaned into the kiss, the hands working at each other's erections, pumping breathlessly while they tangled into each other, a mess of pleasure and neediness and intimate affection. It didn't take long.

Merlin came first, crying out in hot shame as Arthur bit down onto his neck, letting go shortly after.

They laid together, Arthur on top of Merlin, both of them sticky and panting and tired from all of it – the quest, the battle, the _feelings_ – neither of them caring to speak about the volumes of tensions that just washed away in that moment.

"Am I allowed back?" Merlin asked quietly, once his breathing evened. "Or is this it?"

Arthur groaned a petulant, bratty "shut _up,_ Merlin!" as he shifted off of him to lay at his side, arm over Merlin's chest like a child clutching a blanket. "As far as I'm concerned, you're not allowed to leave."

Merlin chuckled to himself. It wouldn't be that easy he knew, but at least for now he decided to let himself feel like the battle was won, and they got to live happily ever after.


End file.
